The Face of Rape
by Addy Robin
Summary: Francis Bonnefoy was out for a walk when the unspeakable happened. In a single moment of misjudgment, he fell victim to a crime that was always blamed upon him by others…rape. Now, he'll have to journey down the road to recovery…all while fighting against accusations of being a rapist himself. (Warnings: Heavy mentions/implications of rape.)
1. Chapter 1

It was too late at night for him to remember what he was supposed to be doing.

Stars twinkled above Francis's head, streetlights illuminating the path ahead of him. Home wasn't far, but at the rate he was walking now it might take a little while to get back. Maybe ten minutes, he reasoned as he continued to walk away. He'd left just to get some air - paperwork had become too much and his house had been stuffy; he was too restless to go to sleep and the moon was full. All in all, it was a gorgeous night to go walking, so he'd taken the opportunity.

He smiled as he made his way into the local park and sat down at a bench, taking a moment to appreciate the quiet. It wasn't every day that he stayed at this house - not the usual, extravagant affair that he loved to live in. It was home away from home, a quiet town where he could come to think and do whatever he wished (even if that was paperwork). In this town, at least, he could simply be Francis, and not the country of France…it was a strange thing to want to be, but Francis didn't mind indulging himself from time to time.

He didn't notice the quiet footsteps that were sounding behind him, echoing softly across the pavement. Shutting his eyes, he took a deep breath and relaxed, leaning back on his hands as his gaze turned to the full moon above him.

Suddenly and out of nowhere, a shiver wracked his entire body. It wasn't nearly cold enough for him to be shivering, and he had a jacket. No, this was something different…instinct. Something was wrong, very wrong…

He jumped slightly when he finally heard the footsteps - too close for comfort. Startled, he jumped to his feet and whipped around, looking confused when he saw a man in dark clothing standing just behind the bench and smiling at him.

"…pardon me," he said cautiously. "I didn't see you."

"That's alright…" The man grinned, showing his teeth now. Francis averted his gaze - this was all very, very wrong. He felt sick to his stomach, and every part of his body was telling him to _run, now_, but he stood his ground. This man was probably just lost, asking for directions. It was very late, after all…that had to be it… "Say, could you help me out? I'm trying to get back to my hotel, but it's very dark and I've lost my way."

Francis smiled at this despite the fear that continued to gnaw at his stomach. If this man did try to pick-pocket him in any way he'd simply fight back - he was strong enough, of course. "Of course," he finally replied, smiling as he began to walk forward. "Follow me. Do you know which street it's on?"

"Yes," the man replied. "I think I might know the way, I just would rather not travel alone…"

"I understand," Francis said, feeling much more self assured now that the man had opened up to him. He was probably just wearing dark clothing because it looked nice on him - black was in this season, as well. The more Francis thought about it, the more he was alright with walking beside this man as they headed back to his hotel. "What did you say your name was?" he asked. The man smiled pleasantly.

"Everyone calls me by my nickname - Arrow. You can too, if you'd like."

"Arrow…" Francis smiled, nodding. "Very nice to meet you. My name is Francis…"

The continued to converse, Francis paying more attention to the other man than to his surroundings. He almost didn't notice when they turned down an alleyway, but as they approached a dead end, Francis suddenly became alert. The sinking feeling returned, and his gaze snapped back to the man called Arrow, who now faced him with a knife in hand - he glanced past him and noted that two other men had appeared…they'd been following the entire time.

Francis had been tricked.

To hide his fear, he put on a confident smirk and stepped back, balling his hands into fists. "If you had wanted my money, you should have just said so," he sneered, straightening up to his full height as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, grabbing all of the money he had and tossing it to the ground in front of 'Arrow'. "There you are. I won't fight - you can take it. I'll give you my cards as well if that's what you wish, but–"

His eyes widened as Arrow disregarded the money and moved forward swiftly, knife against Francis's neck now. "That's not what I want at all…" Arrow replied, smiling darkly as the he snapped his fingers. The other two men came forward, blocking either side of him so that he could not run. "No, we're going to have some fun instead…grab him," he ordered of the men.

Francis's first instinct was to fight - he kicked as hard as he could at the man on his left and punched the man on his right in the stomach when they reached for him - before he remembered the blade that Arrow had, now pressing much more firmly against his neck. Nation or not, cutting someone's throat was very likely to kill…trembling, he let his hands fall back to his sides, staring at the other man with new found fear.

"You can't…" he finally managed, unable to believe that this was happening, to him…

Arrow smirked. "I already am."

He found his voice again as they grabbed him and threw him to the ground, knives cutting all too quickly through his clothing and nicking his skin carelessly. And he screamed.

Francis screamed as loudly as he could.

He screamed…but no one heard.

It was morning when someone woke him.

Bruised, naked, and stunned, Francis was barely able to open his eyes. When he finally did, he was staring into the face of a woman, who looked horrified at his state. In any other case, he would have smiled and made some sort of joke…this time, he barely managed the word he needed. "Help…"

The woman graciously covered him with a blanket she had and escorted him back to her house only a few doors down. She was explaining to Francis how she'd seen him in the alley and thought he might have been homeless, but as she'd gotten closer his appearance had said something different…he wasn't paying as much attention as he could have been, too dazed and confused and in pain to want to even think. One thought kept running through his mind, the same thought that had haunted his restless nightmares since he had passed out in the alleyway…

_I was raped?_

The men's faces were blurry, but the emotions he'd felt were burned into his mind. Every painful step was a reminder of the previous night's events, and it took all of his will power to continue walking. He didn't notice when the woman asked him a question, not responding until she finally brought him into her house and sat him down. "I know you are hurt, but please listen…" she said softly, her voice level and calm. "I am going to call the police so that they can help you. Do you have any family that I can call?"

Shaking, Francis shook his head, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. "D-do not call the police…" he mumbled. "I am alright…"

"You are not…" the woman whispered sadly. "Please, let me call them…I picked up the wallet and cell phone that were in your clothes, and…"

"Please…" he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. "…do not…I would like to take a shower and…and go home…that is all. Please…"

The woman stared at him for a long moment, but finally nodded her head, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, and she stared at him with wide, sad eyes. "I am sorry…the shower is right down the hall. I'll get some clothes for you…" she whispered, her hand falling back to her side. He watched as she walked away, trembling as he finally buried his face into his hands and began to cry, three words running through his mind.

_I was raped._

And Francis could do nothing to avoid it.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a meeting just like any other meeting...

It had been a week since the...incident, and still Francis had told no one. Other than to return to his normal dwelling, away from that horrible town, he hadn't left the house for anything, sending his attendants to do everything for him, even cooking...

Meetings were the one thing he could not avoid.

For the first time in a very long time, he was silent for the duration of the meeting. All of his focus was on taking notes, diligently writing down every word that Ludwig had said. He met nobody's eyes, not even speaking - he'd come in thirty minutes late on purpose, so that nobody would talk to him. But now...

"And with that, we will end this meeting for today." Ludwig closed his folder, resulting in a loud cheer from Feliciano, and glanced at the clock. "Tomorrow morning at ten sharp, we will be meeting again to continue this discussion. Latecomers will not be tolerated after fifteen minutes," he added, glancing at Francis pointedly - Francis was, of course, too busy writing it down to notice. Somewhat surprised, Ludwig turned his gaze back to the rest of the table and cleared his throat. "...well then, all of you have a good evening. Rest well, and please come prepared tomorrow."

Francis sighed, only noticing that the meeting was over as people began to stand. Oh no...nervously, he began packing up his things as quickly as possible, hoping, /praying/ that today would be the one day when everyone had other things to do...he stood, quickly heading for the back entrance in hopes that nobody would notice him...

"Big brother Fraaaaance!"

He flinched slightly at the sound of Feliciano's voice, smiling weakly when the other man bounded up to him. "Good evening, Feliciano," he said softly, forcing his smile to become a bit brighter when the other man looked confused. Despite it not reaching his eyes, Feliciano grinned again, clapping his hands excitedly. "How are you?"

"Good!" Feliciano exclaimed, bouncing up and down happily. "Hey, I came to ask if you wanted to come have dinner with some of us!" He smiled brightly, bobbing around Francis in circles. "It will be fun! I'm going to be there, and so is my brother, and so is Germany, and so is–"

"I think I'm going to pass," Francis said softly, the forced smile still on his face. "I have some things I have to take care of this evening. But next time perhaps." Without another word, he waved at Feliciano and walked away, knowing the other man would not feel hurt by his decision. And, true to his nature, Feliciano was already dancing away towards his brother, poking and prodding at him excitedly as the other man bristled angrily...nodding, Francis moved quickly to the door, praying to God that he wouldn't be...

Without warning, a pair of arms wrapped around his waist, holding him tightly. He shrieked at the top of his lungs, throwing his elbow back into his attacker's stomach. He whipped around as he pulled his knife out of his pocket, pointing it angrily at...

Antonio.

The room was completely silent, all eyes on them as Francis stared in horror at the other man, who was attempting to catch his breath, winded from the hit. He looked up after a moment, meeting Francis's eyes with concern.

"Francis?" he asked, straightening slowly and taking a cautious step forward. "Are you..."

Francis shook his head, dropping his knife in shock as he sprinted from the room. Now everyone would be talking to him, trying to speak to him, and all he wanted was to be left alone...oh, lord...

"Francis, wait!" Antonio called after him, chasing him and trying to catch up. Francis didn't respond, too focused on getting back to his room, getting to somewhere, /anywhere/ where he could be alone again...

He finally evaded Antonio by turning a corner unexpectedly and doubling back. By the time Antonio realized, Francis was already in his room, door locked as he slumped down onto the bed and cried.

When Francis awoke, Matthew was at his side.

He didn't scream this time, because he knew Matthew. He could see him, and all thoughts that Francis had of Matthew were good - none of them could be linked to his attackers. The Canadian was holding his hand and gently pressing a wet cloth to his forehead, sighing softly as he glanced to the door.

"I asked for the spare key to your room, but I re-locked the door so nobody else would come in..." Matthew explained gently squeezing his father's hand. "You were shaking and sweating and stuff, so I got this..." he trailed off, nervously meeting Francis's eyes. "...papa, what...what happened? I can tell you're not okay, so...please don't lie to me..."

Francis stared at Matthew sadly, making no words as he squeezed his son's hand gently. Matthew sighed and looked down, shutting his eyes. "Can I...do you want a hug, papa?"

Nervously, Francis nodded, and Matthew laid down beside him, pulling him into a warm, gentle embrace. It was the first time since that night that anyone else had touched him, and Francis still wasn't sure how he felt. At first it was alright, but...as the seconds passed, Francis could feel himself shaking more and more in his son's arms, his fear getting the best of him as he finally nudged Matthew away.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered, tears spilling from his eyes again. "It isn't you, Mathieu...I..."

"It's okay, papa..." Matthew mumbled, brushing some hair away from his father's eyes as he tried not to cry. "Don't apologize...can you tell me what's wrong?" he asked again gently, not wanting to scare his father. When Francis shook his head, Matthew squeezed his hand again and nodded. He knew better than to force the man, especially not when he was like this...

"I am scared, Mathieu..." Francis whispered, eyes shut as he trembled. "If I tell anyone...it is going to happen again. They said...they told me I could not tell. They told me they would find me if–"

"Shh..." Matthew whispered, pulling his father close again - this time Francis did not protest, instead wrapping his arms around his son carefully. "Nobody's going to hurt you, papa...I'll protect you. We all will..."

Francis shook his head, burying his head into Matthew's chest once more. After a few moments of silence, Matthew began to rub his back gently. "You can cry..." he whispered. "It's alright to cry..."

Silence.

And then, as though his resolve had broken, Francis began to cry again, sobbing violently as Matthew tightened his hold. He wailed loudly despite knowing there were other people around, and Matthew let him. There was nothing else he could do...

"Yo! What's going on in there? You're being super loud, dude!"

Alfred's voice sounded through the door, accompanied by a few other unidentifiable mumbles. Matthew sighed and stood from the bed, patting his father's shoulder as he wailed into a pillow before moving tiredly to the door, opening it and staring at Alfred with some disdain. "Al," he mumbled. "Can't you tell he's crying...?"

"Yeah! I wanna help!" Alfred insisted, looking excited. "I'm the hero! If anyone can help, it's me!"

Matthew sighed softly, meeting his brother's eyes and gazing at him seriously. "Not tonight. Tomorrow, at breakfast, we can all talk. But right now..." Matthew glanced back at Francis sadly before looking back to Alfred. "He's very..."

"Very what?" Arthur stepped into view from behind Alfred, craning his neck to try and see Francis. "What's happened to him? He hasn't been acting like his usual perverted self..."

Francis's eyes widened at this, and Matthew shook his head. "Dad, I don't think now is the right time for–"

"What's wrong, frog?"Arthur called with a smirk. "Didn't get to molest anyone today?"

Without warning, Francis stood from the bed. Matthew turned around quickly, stepping in front of him cautiously. "Papa, you need to lay down, you aren't well..." he tried to say, but Francis gently moved him aside, gaze locked on Arthur.

Arthur frowned. "What," he sneered. "Don't get all sore about it. You've never minded my teasing you before, what's your problem?"

Francis didn't stop moving, walking forward until he was standing inches from Arthur. The Englishman raised an eyebrow, and Francis trembled, staring into his eyes for a long moment. Then, without warning, Francis punched him in the face, sending Arthur tumbling to the ground.

"What the hell?!" Arthur yelled, covering his nose with his hand as he glared at Francis. "Are you out of your bloody mind, you–"

"I did not molest anyone!" Francis yelled, trembling and shaking as he stared down at Arthur. "I never have! I never have, and I never will! Nobody deserves anything like that, do you understand?! It is not a joke, and I do not find it funny! I will never do that! I will never..." Francis's resolve faltered as he finally saw Arthur's nose, bleeding now from the impact. Shaking his head, he stepped backwards into his room and glanced at Matthew tearfully.

"P-papa...?" Matthew whispered. Francis shook his head, hands still in fists as he barely held himself together. Matthew stood carefully, nodding quickly as Francis pointed slowly to the door, too far gone for words...the moment his son stepped out, Francis shut and locked the door, falling against the wall as he shivered.

He couldn't handle this...there was no way...

Shutting his eyes, Francis allowed himself to slip out of consciousness, past the point of nightmares and into a realm of nothingness; the only place he felt safe anymore.

**(AN: I know Arthur's comment seems a little rude, but it was more of for the sake of the story. For the duration, however, he will be more in character than this one comment seems - I don't believe him to be insensitive. Thank you.)**


	3. Chapter 3

Francis's own screams haunted his nightmares, shadowy hands and figures surrounding him, grabbing at him and harming him in any way possible. When he finally managed to wrestle his way back to consciousness he was panting hard and sweating profusely. He could barely remember what had even happened in the nightmare but, like that first night, the emotions were just as real as they had ever been.

Sighing, Francis rolled over to face the clock - Only eight. So he had some time to shower and eat breakfast before the meeting started. This time he'd have to come in only fifteen minutes late, but at least it would be easier to avoid others...he shut his eyes, pulling his knees to his chest and shaking his head. Tears welled up in his eyes but he did everything he could to keep them down - he'd have to cry later. They would never leave him alone if he looked like he'd been crying at the meeting...

"Yo, Francis!"

He bit back a scream as he heard the shout, trying to relax as he realized that it was only Gilbert. Shaking, he forced himself to sit up. "Y-yes?" he called back weakly, eyes falling to his lap as he heard Gilbert laugh.

"Me and Tonio are gonna go eat breakfast at the little restaurant downstairs! You gotta come with!" Behind the door, he heard Antonio chime in with a small 'yeah!' and sighed. He couldn't...not today...

"I have to shower," he said, standing from his bed tiredly. "I'm sorry. I woke up late..."

Gilbert sighed dramatically before snickering again, tapping at the door a couple of times. "Whatever, bro. Just don't spend too much time fapping, or you'll be late to the meeting again!" With another harsh laugh he was off, Antonio most likely following suit from the sound of the footsteps. Francis stopped in his tracks.

_Just don't spent too much time fapping..._

Without warning he grabbed one of his shoes and threw it as hard as he could against the wall, falling to his knees and shaking as he forced himself not to cry. Even just the mention of something like that...it shouldn't have terrified him as much as it did...

He stood slowly, taking deep breaths. _One step at a time_, he reminded himself, carefully moving to the bathroom and averting his eyes from the mirror. He didn't want to see himself. Not this way...

He couldn't look at himself the same way ever again.

"Germany, hey Germany!" Feliciano bobbed up and down alongside his partner, grabbing at his hand excitedly as the other man turned to face him.

"Feliciano, I told you to call me Ludwig when we're in public," he reminded him gently. The Italian blinked before grinning.

"I forgot again! I'm sorry," he said, before remembering his previous excitement. "Oh, but Ger– Ludwig! Big Brother France left some of his papers on the desk yesterday, and I didn't want to touch them because you told me that touching other people's things is rude, but I decided that it would be okay if you touched them because you're Germany–"

"Ludwig."

"Ludwig, yeah!" Feliciano smiled brightly, tugging on Ludwig's hand as he tried to pull him away. "Come on! You gotta come get them! They have notes written on them, and I don't want him to lose them!"

"...you're being oddly responsible," Ludwig mumbled, shaking his head as he followed Feliciano down the hall and into the meeting room. "Alright, where are they?"

Feliciano pointed excitedly to where Francis had been sitting yesterday, where there were a few scattered papers. Sighing, Ludwig made his way over to clean them up, pausing when he saw writing on them. "Feliciano, did you read these?" he asked softly. Feliciano shook his head proudly.

"No! I was good, I didn't touch anything, and I didn't read anything! Just like you would want me to do, Luddy!"

Ludwig stared down at the papers with disdain. Surely it had to be unrelated to Francis, but...there was no denying the word that was repeatedly scrawled down on the papers, written over and over again in red ink.

"...please go make an announcement that we are moving the meeting up to nine. I expect everyone here in fifteen minutes. It's very important." Despite himself, he gave Feliciano a small smile. "Will you do that for me, Feliciano?"

The Italian's eyes widened as he looked at Ludwig, before he jumped up excitedly and nodded. "Yeah! I'll do it right now, and I won't get distracted or anything! You can count on me, Ludwig!" he called as he raced out of the room. Ludwig sighed, staring at the papers in front of him. It wasn't possible...was it?

Francis sighed as he paced down the hallway, eyes locked on the ground. Since Ludwig had moved the meeting up to nine he'd had to skip breakfast and only grab some fruit, but even with that he was still ten minutes late. Approaching the door, Francis took a deep breath, steadying himself. In a few hours he'd be able to go back to his room and cry...he'd survived more. He could do this.

Cautiously, he opened the door and stepped inside, keeping his eyes to the ground as he tried to avoid the notice of anyone else. It was only when he got to his chair that he noticed...the room was completely silent. All eyes were on him...he forced a smile, looking around nervously.

"Er..." he began, clearing his throat quickly. He couldn't stutter - he had to stay calm. "I am sorry for being late," he said softly, still smiling. "But there is no need to stare at me like that...I was getting breakfast, you see, and–"

"Francis." He looked to Arthur, who had bandaged his nose from the previous night. Suddenly nervous, he looked away, his smile fading.

"Yes...?" he mumbled, attempting to keep his composure. "I apologize for yesterday as well, but–"

Ludwig cleared his throat, staring at Francis. He was holding some papers in his hand, but Francis couldn't make out what they were from this angle... "I changed the meeting time because I felt it was urgent that we all come together..." he sighed, looking away. "As nations, I think it is imperative that we all look out for one another and keep each other safe in any way possible. If anything happens, we..."

As Ludwig spoke, Francis lost focus on his words, too distracted by the papers in his hands. All eyes were still on him, but there was no reason for that beyond maybe his actions from last night...

He finally caught a better glimpse of the papers in Ludwig's hand. They were his, definitely. He must have dropped them on his way out. But...there was writing on them, scribbling that he barely remembered. He had been taking notes, but not in red ink. So what had he been...

The word caught him off guard, and he nearly screamed as he saw what he'd written, what Ludwig had seen...

_Rape_. Written in red pen, scrawled all over the papers...

"...and it is because of these papers that I am bringing this up," Ludwig continued, grabbing Francis's attention once more. No, he wouldn't, he couldn't bring this up, not in front of everyone else, no, _no_...

"On these papers," Ludwig said, keeping his composure even as he noticed Francis trembling. "There is only one word, but I think it says enough. And that word is–"

"_No!_" Within moments, Francis had leapt from his chair and ran across the meeting room, tearing the papers from Ludwig's hands before making a break for the door, ignoring the shouts of confusion from Ludwig and the rising curiosity of everyone else. He had to get out of here, he couldn't let anyone know about this, not now, not like this.

Not when it was all his fault.

**(AN: I'm surprised this story is actually getting any support at all considering its nature. Thank you for the favorites, follows and reviews. It is all much appreciated.)**


	4. Chapter 4

He had been sitting against a wall, trying to hide, when it had happened.

One single moment, and he found himself screaming, crying, terrified of what was around him...

He was no longer in the hotel.

In Francis's mind, he was back in the alleyway - the position he had been sitting in was similar, too similar, to one of the many positions he had been forced into on that night. He could _feel_ everything as though it were happening all over again, feel the hands and the knives and the pain - the utter humiliation and violation of all of it...

And he was screaming, though he wasn't aware of it...

Even as he stared ahead and saw Feliciano and Ludwig rushing to him, he couldn't stop - it was as though it was that night all over again...

Ludwig shook him. He continued to scream. Somewhere, he could hear Feliciano crying...he was crying, too. But Francis couldn't stop - it felt as though his body had simply...shut down. The only way he could continue to function was to scream, cry, and breathe. Even as Ludwig picked him up and began to carry him, all he could think of was scream, cry, breathe.

Even Ludwig's touch began to feel evil, and soon enough Francis found himself trying to get away despite being...somewhat aware of who it was. Eventually though, his fierce shaking settled into soft tremors and his screaming quieted, one thought on his mind - breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out...

His vision blurred, and as Ludwig set him down on a bed, Francis was barely able to keep calm, only breathing. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale...

"...Feliciano, please go and tell everyone that we found Francis. We'll meet back in the meeting room in fifteen minutes."

"Okay!" Cheerily, Feliciano bounced to the door, casting one timid glance back at Francis before skipping out the door, leaving Ludwig alone with Francis, who was still shaking.

"...well," Ludwig said softly, as though trying to prompt Francis to speak. The other man continued to stare blankly ahead, still shaking, his breathing harsh and uneven. In, out, in, out...

Time kept passing, minutes ticking by as Francis continued to sit and stare, unable to say or do anything else. Soon enough it had been nearly seven minutes...Ludwig sighed. It seemed like he wouldn't be getting anything out of Francis at this rate...

"I suppose I'll leave you alone then," Ludwig finally said, admitting defeat. He was about to stand when he suddenly felt Francis's hand on his own, gripping his fingers tightly. Confused, he met Francis's eyes and was shocked to find that the other man was staring at him with a crazed, angered look.

"They left me alone," he mumbled, his shaking beginning to worsen. Ludwig placed a hand atop Francis's, taking it as a good sign when the other man didn't pull back.

"Who did?" he asked cautiously, not pressing the subject when Francis ignored him.

"They...left me, all alone..." Francis continued, taking long pauses between his words, as though he were giving each one careful thought. "They...did what they wanted...they did all they wanted to me...they _hurt_ me..." he whispered, as though the word was painful in itself. "...I felt so helpless, so alone...I didn't feel like...like myself, I felt like..." He paused, falling silent for a long moment. Ludwig was patient - he had seen men come out from traumatic experiences before, and this was no different...

"I felt...worthless...no, no..." Francis paused again, still shaking as he stared at Ludwig without truly seeing him. "...I didn't feel like anything...I felt like...like _nothing_...like I was nothing...just an object, a body for them to toss around and use until they were..." He sobbed suddenly, jerking his hand away from Ludwig's and using it to cover his eyes. "They hurt me..." he whispered again. "They hurt me, then they threw me away and left me _all alone_, maybe to die. And it was all my fault...it was all my fault...my fault..."

Ludwig sat with him in silence for a long moment before nodding and standing from his chair, knowing better than to touch Francis. "...you need to rest," he finally said, his voice quiet. "I'll have Feliciano come back with food for you in a while. You have my permission to skip today's meeting." When no response came from Francis, Ludwig nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind him carefully. The meeting would continue, no matter what. It was the subject that he would have to change...

* * *

The next day, he could feel everyone's eyes on him once again.

Whispers and rumors ran rampant among the other nations as Francis silently stalked to his seat, face still somewhat messy (for though he had showered that morning, he had cried again minutes later). As he passed, he could hear little voices – 'he looks awful', 'I can't believe that happened', and so on. He couldn't be sure if those voices were imagined or real, but either way...

He sat down just as Ludwig stepped up to the podium, ready to start.

"Alright everyone, take your seats. Before we begin, are there any announcements?"

There was silence, and for a moment Francis thought that yes, this was a meeting just like any other. Perhaps Ludwig hadn't told, perhaps...

"I've got one, alright." Francis's head snapped to the left as he watched Sadik Adnan come to a stand, glancing at Francis with a small smirk. "It's come to my attention that there's been some...less than decent behavior going on with some of our members." He chuckled, looking to Ludwig and crossing his arms. Ludwig frowned.

"I'll need you to elaborate, Sadik."

The other man grinned, gesturing to Francis without looking at him. "I don't think we should allow _whores_ to participate in our meetings, especially not ones who _cry rape_ and expect us to believe them when all they try to do is get laid with everyone else at these meetings." Sadik looked at Francis, raising an eyebrow. "I think it's sick. Sluts like him aren't worth anything anyway, so why should we tolerate him?"

There was a collective murmur from around the room, but Francis was too shocked to distinguish if it was positive or negative. Sadik still had a shit-eating grin on his face, but Francis couldn't find the strength to look away as the other man met his eyes. "They always say that France is 'the country of love', but all I see is a worthless piece of shit who thinks 'love' and 'sex' are one in the same. He doesn't deserve to be here, and I vote–"

"The hell is wrong with you?!"

Francis watched with surprise as Lovino Vargas stood from his chair, glaring venomously at Sadik. The other man laughed softly as Lovino stared him down, neither one saying anything for a few moments before Sadik opened his mouth again to speak.

"Sit the fuck down," Lovino snapped, watching with some satisfaction as the other man, looking shocked, sank back into his seat. "Look, I don't know what the fuck is _wrong_ with you people. It's not like we all haven't fucking gone through tragic things in our lifetimes – it _happens_. And I've had enough of you assholes talking about me behind my back to know that it hurts when people don't believe you." He looked to Francis with a grimace, and Francis met his eyes carefully. Lovino, of all people, defending him?

Lovino sighed. "I'm not saying that he's my favorite person or anything, but I really don't think it's right for any of you to be talking about France behind his back - and don't think I haven't heard you," he mumbled, glancing pointedly at Arthur. Arthur, though just as shocked as everyone else, met Lovino's gaze evenly before looking away. "He doesn't deserve that kind of treatment. Hell, anyone who can put up with /this/ idiot," he mumbled, indicating Antonio with his thumb, "Deserves a medal, and can't be such a bad person."

Pushing his chair away, Lovino moved across the room to stand next to Francis's chair, watching everyone carefully as he put a hand on the back of the chair. "I'm not the best person around here either, but at least I know when it's _not_ okay to be a fucking asshole. Even I have limits." He looked over to Sadik with a glare before looking to Ludwig and frowning. "So if France says he was raped...I believe him. And if you don't...well, you're just a fucking idiot." Lovino glanced down to Francis with a frown, meeting his eyes. "This meeting is pointless. Come on, let's get coffee."

Without a word, Francis nodded and stood, following quickly as Lovino headed out of the door and out of sight.

* * *

They ended up at a local coffee shop and spoke over bitter coffee; Lovino enjoyed his that way, and Francis was simply too tired and sad to make an effort to sweeten his own. They sat and sipped their drinks wordlessly for the better part of an hour, each content to sit and people watch (complimented well by the fact that they barely knew one another outside of a mutual relationship with Antonio).

After a while, Francis finally did look to Lovino, and was shocked to find that the Italian was observing him carefully. Neither one spoke for a few moments, Lovino finally breaking their long silence with a sigh.

"You look like shit," he said frankly. Francis couldn't protest that. "And I'm not one to talk, but I think you need some help. Professional help."

"I'm really–"

"So help me God if you give me any of that 'I'm just fine' bullshit I will slap you into another nationality." The imagery was funny, and Francis might have laughed if not for the expression on Lovino's face, which was dead serious. "I know you're not fine, _you_ know you're not fine, so it's time to do something about it."

"...what can I do though?" Francis mumbled, gaze falling to his empty cup. Lovino reached into his bag, pulling out something and sliding it across the table – a business card.

"He's a good therapist. If you're willing to make the trips, he's always willing to make the space for appointments. I've got my skeletons, too, and he's really helped me out. It's...sort of why I don't hate everyone. As much," he amended, eyes on the business card. "So...I think you should go and check him out. Because, I mean...I believe you. And if anything, he would too. He's not one of us, and he's got no reason not to. An objective perspective might be good." With his trademark frown, Lovino stood, picking up Francis's coffee cup as he did.

"Are you going back?" he asked quietly, placing his fingers on the business card. Lovino nodded, looking back to the hotel where the meeting was being held.

"I sort of have to, or Feli will be on my ass about how 'skipping meetings is bad for me' until next Tuesday." Despite this, he glanced to Francis and gave him a tiny, hopeful glance. "I'll cover for you though. You need to rest...just think about it, okay?" he said, indicating the business card. Francis nodded slowly, eyes on the table, and Lovino gave him a small wave before leaving the café, leaving Francis alone to stare at the card and think.

* * *

It was at least a week later, maybe two, before Francis finally found the courage to call the number on the card that Lovino had given him. A kindly Italian man had answered, and they had spoken briefly before arranging a meeting for the next Thursday.

The days continued to pass with Francis shut up in his house, barely answering phone calls unless they were absolutely necessary, and only watching re-runs of old French shows that, really, he didn't even enjoy...

When Thursday came, he made his way to the office building where the therapist's office was. It was the fourth room down the hall, and there was a pleasantly decorated waiting room inside. He signed in on the sheet, pressed the button, and sat, waiting.

His name was Domenico Marano, as he'd learned over the phone. He hadn't seen what he looked like yet, but in Francis's mind the man was probably in his early 40s, with a thinning hairline and graying hair. He liked to imagine that he wore shirts with Italian themed designs on them, but in reality knew that it probably wasn't true...he continued to wait, not sure what else to do. There were magazines, but they seemed boring, and the TV in the room was permanently on mute, with no subtitles to be seen. Above the TV, was a clock. It was broken, the minute hand ticking uselessly in the same spot, and Francis could see that it had stopped at 7:15 some other day. The ticks became repetitive, and as they did...

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

_Slow measured footsteps, in stride just beside his..._

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

The minute hand stayed halted between the hour and minute hands, trembling each time it attempted to move.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

_Francis, trembling, pinned to the wall as those same footsteps approached him..._

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

_Hands, knives, screaming, pain..._

Francis stood slowly, eyes still on the clock as the minute hand ticked helplessly, trapped in the same spot as the hour and minute hands seemed to close in on it, closer and closer...

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Francis threw a magazine at the clock, knocking it free from the wall and sending it tumbling to the ground. It landed face down and, trembling, he sprinted from the room and out of the building, only stopping when he was outside. His stomach lurched, and he vomited into the bushes, earning stares from the few people around. No one approached him, thankfully, and he righted himself slowly.

After a moment, he turned and walked away from the building, his own footsteps sending shivers down his spine.

* * *

**(AN: My apologies for taking so long in writing this chapter. This story is slightly taxing for me to write as it puts me in a very emotional place - that said, I always want to make sure that my writing is the best quality for you to read, and not just a jumble of emotions. Thanks to all of you who have favorited, followed, and reviewed this - the reception I have gotten so far is much more than I expected, and I'm glad for it. I would also like to apologize for the out of character writing that I did for Turkey/Sadik - I needed to make him mostly antagonist, but I recognize that this behavior is far from canon, and don't plan on writing in such a way unless it is plot necessary, as it was in this situation.**

**To briefly answer some questions; At this point in time I do not have any ships planned. There may be a sequel to this story, but it will take some time. Once again, I truly apologize for the lack of update, and will try to keep a more steady schedule in the future. This story is not dead, and I appreciate your patience. Once again, thank you.)**


	5. Chapter 5

Feeding the birds had become an unexpected but wonderful pastime, and though thing were grim of late it had been helpful for Francis when he needed to calm down and thing – birds were friendly and didn't judge. He'd named a particularly fat and white one Pierre; another habit of his...after the fiasco with the therapist, as well as avoiding calls from everyone who tried to contact him, he was tired – not physically, but mentally. With every day that went by, he felt more and more as though death might be...

"Excuse me. Can I sit here?"

He looked up slowly, meeting the dark brown eyes of a girl who looked to be no older than 20. He nodded slowly and she sat beside him, looking grateful. It took him a moment to realize that she'd been speaking English, but he decided not to question it just now – it was summer break for most students in America, so trips to France wouldn't be uncommon. As she pulled out a sandwich from her bag he observed her, birds still chirping pleasantly around their feet.

She was nothing out of the ordinary, face plain and clothes as he would expect of a tourist - it was her right arm that got his attention: She was wearing a cast. However, rather than 'get well soon' and 'feel better' signatures, there were a large amount of autographs with things like 'Good luck!' and 'Kick his ass!' which made Francis smile slightly. The girl noticed and grinned at him, nodding at his shirt.

"You speak English, right?" she said, her smile widening when he nodded with some confusion. "Your shirt," she explained. "It's an English language pun – it wouldn't be funny unless you spoke English, I don't think."

Francis looked down at the baggy nightshirt that he'd gotten from Alfred - it had a picture of a teddy bear with the words 'I'm bear-y sleepy!' in bold print. He smiled at her and nodded. "You're quite perceptive," he said in English. She looked down at the birds with a shy smile, and his eyes were drawn to her cast once more. 'Kick his ass'...

"How did you get that?" he asked curiously, smiling and pointing to her cast. She grinned, looking at it proudly.

"Fighting my rapist," she said plainly. "I ripped off his mask and he broke my arm, but it was worth it to see him lose in court."

Francis gasped, staring at her with wide eyes. "Rapist...?" he said softly. The girl nodded sadly, smile fading just a bit.

"Yeah. Asshole caught me walking home alone after a party." She shrugged. "He was stronger, but I was smarter." With a smile, she showed off her broken arm. "It was worth this to see him get locked up."

Francis looked on in awe. "Weren't you...weren't you scared?"

She nodded. "Yeah. But I'm not gonna spend my life living in fear because one guy messed up." She grinned again. "It all gets better – I just had to take action to make it that way."

Francis stared at her for a long moment, thoughts flying through his mind. She'd been...but surely the man had threatened her in some way. And despite that...the girl grabbed some birdseed and scattered it, speaking again. "I'm really happy that I did," she said softly. "I have no regrets...I thought I would, but..." She shrugged. "I took back what he stole from me – my confidence. That's enough for me." She smiled again and lifted her cast slightly for him to see better. "I 'kicked his ass'. He can't hurt anyone else now."

Despite all of his fear, Francis smiled. This girl...even in the same situation as he had been, she had stayed strong. He stood, offering a hand to her. "Would you like to get some coffee?" he asked. "I want to hear all about your story."

The girl grinned, taking Francis's hand. "I'd like that."

* * *

After a long conversation with the girl – Liza – Francis felt as though the sky were just a bit bluer, and the grass a bit greener...the world was brighter, if only a little bit. Somehow it was...enlightening to know that others went through this and survived. Not just survived, even. They _lived_. And Liza was eager to tell him all about what had happened; the police reports, the line-up, the other girls who had been attacked whom she had met...

He almost wondered if there were others who 'Arrow' had attacked...

His face must have shown something, for as the thought crossed his mind, Liza touched his hand. "Everything alright?" she said. "You zoned out a little there."

Francis sighed softly, forcing a grin. "Yes. I'm fine...so, in the end, you won?"

Liza nodded. "That's right. The jury found him guilty, and I saw them take him away. He'll be locked up for a good long while." She smiled sadly. "So even if it's still a little scary...I'm very happy."

"As you should be." Francis stared down into his coffee, mind racing. This girl was so young...if she could do all of this...

He looked down with surprise as his phone buzzed - it was his secondary one that he told people to only call in emergencies. Checking it, he stared in surprise at the number on the display: Matthew Williams. With a small smile, he looked to Liza and stood. "My son is calling," he explained. "I should probably go. But it was lovely to meet you, Miss Liza."

Liza smiled brightly, waving with her good hand. "It was nice to meet you, too. Have a good day!"

With a nod, Francis stepped outside, hands trembling slightly as he answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Papa!" Matthew's timid voice sounded relieved, and guilt suddenly washed over Francis. He'd been neglecting everyone, but Matthew especially... "I've been trying to call you for the past week and a half! I was so worried...after I heard about what happened..."

Francis sighed, shutting his eyes. "Matthew," he said calmly. "Could you come to my house? I think we should speak face to face about this..."

There was silence for a few moments before he heard Matthew give a resigned sigh. "I...yeah, of course, papa. I can come around tonight, so..."

"That's perfect." Francis paused for a few moments before speaking again, voice hushed. "Matthew, tu sais que je t'aime, oui?"

Silence again. Then... "Oui, papa. Je t'aime aussi."

Francis smiled. "I've missed you. I'll see you tonight."

He could hear the smile in his son's voice as he spoke again. "See you, papa."

* * *

**(AN: Thank you for your patience.**

**The French is: "Matthew, you know that I love you, right?"**

**And "Yes, papa. I love you, too."**

**I apologize if my French is not entirely correct - I had my friend who takes French help me out, but neither of us are entirely fluent in anything (I'm taking Italian, not French). We're getting towards some of the deeper parts of this story, and I just wanted to say thank you again. The response I've gotten to this is overwhelming, and much more than I could have ever hoped for.)**


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